Bloody Sunday
by ondbrightsyde
Summary: AU. In the name of the greater good, Dumbledore declares the younger twin, Harry, a squib.
1. Chapter 1

_DISCLAIMER :_ My name is definitely not J. K. Rowling, owner of my dream world. -sigh-

**Bloody Sunday**  
Chapter One

* * *

Dumbledore strode urgently through the grass, his purple eye-sore of a robe swirling in his midst. His eyes twinkled merrily in the exact replica of the stars lighting the path to the house, as though sharing his joy. Just moments before, he had been at St. Mungo's Hospital to greet the newest member of the Longbottom family. And now, hours later into the night, he was on his way to greet that of the Potter's. Adding on a little more speed, he walked hastily through the treshold to the front door. Godric's Hollow, though admirably warded, was a nuisance to any who wished to visit. The apparition point was just a tad inconveniently placed too far.

As he neared the front doors however, he felt his irritation slowly ebb away to excitement. The Longbottom boy, ---Neville was it?--- had been positively beautiful, just as any newborn baby was, but as his bespectacled eyes assessed the boy's magical prowess, he knew that he had not been the one he was looking for. The Longbottoms, though brave at heart and a kind, though fair couple, were too detained. They were too reserved, with not enough passion. Though the boy was one of the only candidates to the prophecy, Albus was quick to think that Neville was easily not the one. But just in case, he had to see for himself.

And he was right. Now, that only left the Potter's child.

A house elf had greeted him at the door, and by the distant screaming and crashing beyond, Albus could only guess that Lily was still in labour. He grinned as he was led to a room. It was time to meet the saviour of the wizarding world.

* * *

Albus stared in disbelief at the identical babies sleeping peacefully.

Well, shit. This complicated things. So sure was he that the Potter's offspring would be the prophesized child, that it had not occured to him the possibility that Lily could have been bearing twins. He had never thought to ask her, and as far as he knew of his old student, she had wanted to be surprised and had decided against a magical scan: the wizarding equivalent to an ultrasound. There had been only two candidates to begin with, and one had graciously eliminated himself with a mere glance, leaving it rather obvious who the winner would be. But alas, a twist of fate had brought him... twins. Well, that would do no good, Albus decided. He frowned, glancing between the two children.

Twins were often very closely bonded in magic, supporting each other and coming up with enough magical energy in both for one. Upon normal circumstances, it would have been exceedingly clear who the prophesized child would be. But the Longbottom boy was out of the question. So then... scratching his long beard, he debated his course of action. He glanced fleetingly at the tired couple, looking as though they would very much like to sleep, but were too polite to ask him to leave. Sirius, Remus and Peter had been booted from the room at Lily's command, and had yet to step into the room. Narrowing his eyes slightly, he popped a lemon drop into his mouth.

Then again, there were rare exceptions in which one would leech the magic off the other while still in the womb. This was usually due to a lack of magic provided in the atmosphere. Albus sucked on the sweet, staring down at the newborns. Casting a quick tempus, he left it up to chance.

_2:38 AM _

2 + 3 + 8 = 13

Albus discreetly counted the numbers over the infants. When alas the unlucky number fell, he set his face in a grave manner.

Face curiously somber, he hummed and reached a hand to pick up one of the babies---Harold?--, drawing the attention of the Potter's. Careful not to jostle the newborn, he put a wrinkled hand over his forehead. His appendage glowed an interesting color of pale blue, before he sighed dramatically. He looked up to see the concerned gazes of the parents.

"I--is there something wrong, Albus?" James asked wearily.

He loved his headmaster dearly, yes, but the matter of his presence was usually a bad omen.

The man sighed deeply once more, looking every year his age as he showed them the child.

"James, Lily..." he began sorrowfully, "There's a matter of which that has been brought to my attention."

Brows furrowed with worry.

"It is with my deepest regret that I announce to you, that Harold Potter is a squib."

* * *

Lily sobbed into James' shoulder. The sound broke his heart, but at the moment, he felt the only thing ringing inside his head were Dumbledore's words.

_"It is with my deepest regret that I announce to you, that Harold Potter is a squib."_

He closed his eyes tightly, as though that would make it go away. For one, childish moment, he wished it would.

_"I am terribly sorry about the turn of events, if there was anything I could do... I will leave you to your grief."_

The way Dumbledore had said made it sound as though Harry had died. And James couldn't help but think, he might as well have. A wizard with no magic? He sighed into Lily's matted hair. The Potter line, as far back as it went, had produced strong generations of healthy, magical children. James had always considered the possibility that his offsprings may be born with certain handicaps, dreaded them in fact, but for it to be reality... James hadn't been prepared, mentally and emotionally. He was an optimistic guy, most of the time, and had readily dismissed the thought. To him, the future had been bright, despite the ongoing war, and he had planned out everything in his head.

He had pictured his children having their first bout of accidental magic by summoning their toys, or breaking certain expensive heirlooms. He had pictured them on brooms, and the excited laugh bubbling at the back of their throats as they showed him their wands. He had seen himself waking up abruptly to the identical screeches of excitement as they waved their Hogwarts letter in his face and... and he-

He didn't discriminate against squibs, how could he with a werewolf as one of his best friends? But if he were to be completely honest with himself, he'd admit he was at a complete loss. For now, though, he was content to just wallow in self pity as he held his wife, trying his best to comfort her.. and himself.

* * *

It was at least another two hours when both had calmed enough to introduce the newest members of the household to Sirius, Remus and Peter. The last two walked in looking as though they had just been awakened from a very good nap, whereas Sirius practically bounced into the room. With an amused snort, Lily suspected Sirius had been too excited to meet his godson to sleep. And by the way his large blue eyes crinkled with happiness at the sight of Harry, she was right. Peter moved to frightfully prod Leo, but as she gazed upon her sons, her heart clenched painfully and she turned away.

Remus, ever perceptive person that he was, cast her a concerned glance. Or maybe he just smelled the salt of tears.

"Is there something wrong?"

The young couple exchanged a look. Stubbornly, James moved to stand near the window. The sky was already a somber blue in comparison to the black it had been when Dumbledore had delivered the news. With a sigh, Lily looked down at her lap.

"Dumbledore, he---" she paused, "He came earlier, to meet the twins.. and he said that---that-"

She broke off as her voice cracked, but refused to look up at the confused gazes. Taking a moment to compose herself, she continued.

"Dumbledore said that Harry's---" Her eyes burned painfully, "Harry's a s---squib." Unable to contain herself, she sniffled slightly.

The shocked faces of the marauders did nothing to help her state and she sobbed harder.

"I---What? _How?!_"

Taking pity on his wife, James turned grimly. "He explained that Leo wasn't manifesting enough magic to be able to suitably perform any when he's older, and so had leeched some off of Harry, and drained him."

Sirius, gobbsmacked, fell into the nearest chair at a daze.

"Well, shit."

The occupants of the room were too disheartened to properly chastise his choice of vocabulary beyond a few disapproving looks. Peter had moved to the bed where Lily laid out, and held onto her hand comfortingly as James had turned away again.

"James, Lily," Remus called softly,"I'm very sorry to hear that."

James' shoulders stiffened, but didn't answer.

"Have you decided what to do yet, Prongs?" Sirius asked somberly, pale eyes downcast.

"Yes," he answered in the same tone, running a hand through his mussed hair, "Lily and I feel it best that the her sister take him in."

Sirius sat up, outraged. "_What?_ You want to send him _away?!"_

"That's not how it is, Padfoot," James frowned.

"I--..._no!_" Sirius objected, "He should be with his family! Not those.. _disgusting, close-minded animals_ Lily calls her sister and her family!"

James could only roll his eyes in response, not at all offended at the insult, for he much felt the same for his in-laws. Lily though, looked properly offended.

"Those '_disgusting, close-minded animals_' you so lovingly refer to happen to be Harry's blood relatives, also known as, his family." James enunciated slowly, as though speaking to a small child. The way his companion acted sometimes, he couldn't help but think the description fit.

Sirius bared his teeth, "So were my parents and brother."

There were collective winces, but James didn't give in. He locked gazes with his friend seriously.

"He'll be happy there, Sirius."

Sirius snorted, "Oh yeah definitely. Surrounded by pigs in human skin."

James grabbed his thick mane and tugged sharply in frustration.

"You wouldn't understand, Sirius! We only wanted what was best for our son!"

Sirius shot up from his chair. "_You're denying him his heritage!"_

Equally frustrated, he began to pace agitatedly. Lily frowned as Harry began to blink awake.

"What heritage?! He's a _squib_, Sirius! No matter where he's from or who his parents are, it doesn't change the fact that he'll _never be able to do magic!"_ by the end of his speech, James had been shouting. "He's a squib! A squib, Padfoot! How do you think he'll feel seeing us and knowing he's different?" he ended brokenly.

Sirius didn't relent. "How do _you_ think he'd feel knowing his family had forsaken him?"

Here Lily flinched violently. "You don't understand! We don't have any other choice, we---"

"No!" he interrupted, "You're the one who doesn't understand! Because you do have a choice and are just too cowardly to accept it."

"_You can't tell me how to raise my sons!_" James screamed.

A loud wail silenced all the arguements, drawing attention to the distressed babies. Lily herself was silently crying, and with Peter's help she stood to see to her boys.

"Padfoot," Remus murmured, laying a heavy hand on his companion's shoulder. "I think it best if we leave for now, let Lily and James settle in."

Still tense, Sirius broke eye contact with James and turned for the door without another word. With a sigh, Peter turned to James apologetically.

"He'll come around, Prongs, he always does."

Somehow, James doubted he would this time.

* * *

Long after Peter had left to follow after Remus and Sirius, Lily still laid awake. The sun shone shyly through the cracks of the window, gently illuminating the spacious room. Next to her, Harry and Leo was sleeping peacefully, James on their other side, equally asleep. It had been a long, exhausting day, but she couldn't bring herself to sleep. Instead, she contented herself to watching her beautiful family. With a touch of sorrow, she traced a gentle finger down Harry's puffy cheeks, and smiled sadly. She couldn't help but feel irrationally responsible for what had happened.

She knew better then to blame herself, but she couldn't deny there were some very hard facts to back up her reasoning. And who was to say it couldn't be true? She was a muggleborn, and James, a pureblood. The reason Harry could never perform magic could very well have been her doing. With a sigh, she bent down to place a small kiss to Harry's temple. She agreed with James that Harry could never be happy in the wizarding world, not if he couldn't do magic. In fact, it had been her idea to begin with to send him to Petunia. She knew her sister would take care of Harry, not because she trusted her sister explicitly, but because she knew that with her son's _condition_ Petunia would not hesitate to take him in.

She would miss him, surely, but she knew that his happiness came before hers. And she would kill herself before she ever let her son be hurt in any way, emotionally or not. On the one hand, she agreed with Sirius completely. They did have a choice. But no matter which option they took, it all seemed to end in the same way. She sighed. It was hard to imagine that a year ago she had just graduated, having gotten married right after school, and now here she was, with twins. She didn't know what to do.

Nobody ever said parenthood was easy. Lily just wished it wasn't so true.

* * *

**Author's Note** : Please read! I haven't written anything in over _two years_. Also note that emotions and dialogue is not my forte. So constructive criticism, or just plain criticism, whichever you like(hey, a review's a review!) is readily welcomed.


	2. Chapter 2

_DISCLAIMER_: I own nothing. Sadly.

**Bloody Sunday  
**_Chapter Two_

* * *

Sirius paced agitatedly in front of the fire place, his black silken robes billowing about him. Across the room, a certain graying blond couldn't sleep with the sound of feet heavily beating on wood reaching his sensitive ears. With the full moon in a week, his senses were heightening: he could practically smell the worry eminating off the man. He sighed.

"Padfoot, please," Remus pleaded, massaging his temples, "Watching you is just giving me a headache."

The man paused, shoulders sagging. "Sorry Moony." he apologized, "It's just... well, I don't---"

"I know, Siri, _shh_," he said soothingly, hoping to soften the conversation lest they wake Peter. Upon arriving at the latter's cottage, the man had fallen asleep the moment his head had touched the soft cushion of the couch. It had been a wonderful, though trying day for them all. The birth of their friend's sons was great, sure, but now that they were off the high, they were tired. At least, Remus and Peter were.

"He's my godson," Sirius cried pathetically, "They can't send him away, they--they _can't_. It's not right, Moony."

He turned away again, combing a hand through his hair tiredly. Remus sighed from his seat on the couch, Peter's rythmic breathing remaining undisturbed. A moment of peace passed wherein he had almost completely fallen asleep and then Sirius was pacing once more. The werewolf let out a quiet groan.

"_Sirius..._"

"I know, I know," Sirius said, waving a hand absent-mindedly. "I'm sorry Remus. I'll leave you to rest, alright? I'm going to go on home."

Remus resisted the urge to sag with relief, before he felt himself flush with worry. An agitated Sirius was one thing, an agitated Sirius _left alone, unsupervised_ was down-right _dangerous_. He stiffened, wondering whether he should stop his friend, before deciding he was too tired to care. With a nod and a sigh, he waved Sirius away and settled into a curled position on the couch. Within minutes, he had fallen asleep.

* * *

It would be another week before Lily and James reach the final decision. And, unsurprisingly, it was the one they chose that Sirius highly disapproved. Vocally.

"I can't believe you! How could you?!"

The two friends had been arguing for the better part of the week, neither giving in to the other, always unrelenting. James stood his ground, and Sirius fiercely objected. Lily rubbed her forehead tiredly. She had been much the brunt of the darker haired man's attacks as her husband, and though she grudgingly admitted to his reasonings, she still believed in hers. Harry deserved to be happy, after all. With a sigh, she stood and promptly walked out to see to her children. She needed everything within her to convince herself that this was the right decision, and for that, she couldn't listen to someone disprove her. The door closed behind her with an inaudible click, leaving the two friends to the tense silence.

James sighed. "It's for the best, Padfoot."

"Maybe for you." He replied scathingly.

"Harry doesn't belong here! He's---he's--"

"What, James?" Sirius sneered, "A squib?"

"_Yes!_" he blurted unintentionally, eyes widening before looking away.

Sirius stared for a long moment, waiting for his bestfriend to deny the statement. The seconds ticked away, and the other man still refused to meet his gaze. Sirius' shoulders sagged sadly in disappointment. He turned away, heading for the door. Just as his hand turned the golden knob of the door, he paused, and called over his shoulder.

"You're making a mistake, Prongs."

"..it isn't yours to make." came the soft reply.

Shaking his head, Sirius opened the door.

"Goodbye, James."

James watched hopelessly as his bestfriend walked out of the room, and quite possibly, his life.

* * *

In another room, Lily looked down at Harry's peaceful face. She had another hour before Petunia would be expecting her. Placing a gentle kiss on her son's forehead, she pulled back with a slight sniffle. Unable to restrain herself, she put her face in her hands and wept.

* * *

Petunia glanced at the clock with a grimace. It was almost three, and in a couple of minutes, her dreaded sister would be arriving to visit. She thanked the gods that Lily had chosen a time where Vernon was likely to be found at work, and Dudley, her beautiful son, was peacefully asleep. She wouldn't want either to have to deal with her _abnormalities_. Wringing her tiny wrists, she surveilled her perfect living room. She had cleaned and polished every surface: the entire room was spotless. A glance at the clock revealed there to be only one minute before three. She watched anxiously as the hand inched slowly closer to the bold lettered three. _Four seconds.. three.. two.._

The bell rung.

She stood stiffly and promptly walked around to the front and yanked the door open.

"Hello, Petunia." Lily smiled awkwardly, shifting from one foot to the other.

She scowled at her sister and stared curiously at the bundle in her hands.

There was a slight whimper emitting from the cot. Rearing, Petunia resisted the urge to slam the door shut. The last she had heard of Lily, she had been pregnant. Now it doesn't seem to be so. Taking a deep shuddering breathe, she caught her surprised sister by the arm and pulled her in, sharply closing the door with a frigid smile to the neighbor across the street.

She turned and ushered Lily into the living room, making a mental note to disinfect every surface of it as soon as the witch left.

Once they were properly seated, she looked expectantly at her sister.

"Well?" she prompted, not willing to drag the issue any further. She didn't even bother with tea. She'd be dumb if she didn't know there was more to this lovely _visit_.

Slowly, Lily unwound the bundle to reveal a tiny baby. Petunia noted with awe that the child had inherited the green eyes and face shape. She pursed her lips.

"I gave birth to twins last week,'' she started, placing him in a basket next to her on the couch, "This is Harry."

Petunia raised a brow, glancing pointedly at her silver watch.

"A--anyway, " she paused, and sucked in a breathe, "Leo, Harry's twin, well there were complications with the delivery. You know how it is, right, with Dudley.. but I'm sure he came easily." she rambled, avoiding her sister's gaze, "Anyways, Leo, he.. he sucked the ma--" she paused, seeing Petunia's seething face. "--abnormalities out of him."

There was a tense silence as Petunia levelled her with a hard stare, as though daring her to say what she dreaded was coming.

"Thank the heavens," she said venomously instead.

"I--..." Lily rubbed a hand over her forehead tiredly, "He can't stay with us, Petunia."

The blonde woman sniffed, not answering.

"And I trust you," she continued, "you're my sister: Harry's aunt. We... we're family."

A twitch. "..s_o?_" she ground out, resisting the urge to deny that claim.

"So.. so," Lily continued, "I was hoping that you could take..--"

"_No_," Petunia interrupted, "Absolutely not."

"We'll pay for everything you need, please, Petunia, he can't be with us!" She waved a check, signed and ready, in a frantic frenzy. Petunia only felt the bubbling anger in her darken at the sight.

"So you throw him away? What am I, a garbage can?" Petunia hissed, "Take your crap and shove it some place else!"

Lily flinched, "It's not crap, Pet!" she said, reverting to her nickname, "It's my son, _your nephew_! He'll never belong in the wizarding world--" Petunia flinched violently, standing.

"_Out!_" she shrieked, "_Get out!_"

"He has no where to go!" Lily sobbed.

"I don't care! You think you can just waltz in here and dump all your problems on me, well here's the thing, _Lils,_" she sneered, "You got yourself into this mess, you get yourself out."

Petunia roughly gripped Lily's arm and yanked her from her seat with surprising strenght. Shoving her into the hall, she then proceeded to forcefully push the struggling woman to the door. It was only when she had pushed so hard that her younger sister had fallen to the floor in a heap that she paused, breathing heavily. Slowly, the red head pulled herself up into a kneeling position, before lapping onto Petunia's hand. Lily sobbed, her tears staining her cheeks with a pink flush, hair in disarray.

"P-please, Pet," she cried pathetically. "Please, please---I can't do this, Pet, I need you.. _he_ needs you.. you'll care for him, won't you?"

The grip on her wrists were painfully tight, the other hand holding the crumpled check. There was a tense silence, broken by the sudden wailing of both of their children. Both panted, breathing hard. Livid, Petunia put a hand on top of Lily's hands, gripping back just as hard, and leaned forward. As she stared at the crying woman, and listened to the child's heartbreaking cry for a mother who did not want him, she made a quick decision. When she spoke, she uttered with all the years of boiling hatred and bitterness she had bottled up.

"Get. _Out._"

She yanked the crumpled check from Lily's fingers.

Later, she could be seen crying over a crib, looming over the curious babies with despair.

"Oh, Lily," she sobbed quietly, "What has magic done to you?"

* * *

Another month passed in distress at the Potter residence. The entire household had fallen into depression at the loss of their son. Lily had not left the nursery ever since her disconcerting return from the Dursleys, and Leonis, now alone in the large crib, cried for his twin. James had not seen hide nor hair of his best friend, and though he was sorry about getting into a spat with Sirius, he held his ground. And though they missed Harry terribly, they knew it was for the best. The newly pronounced father was tedious in caring for his broken family, always comforting Lily, and watching after Leo, when the witch had worn herself out. In fact, he was so busy comforting his family, that he had no time to mourn for himself, let alone find the time for comfort.

Another week, another life-changing event.

James walked quickly down the hall, turning here and there before reaching his destination. A house elf had nervously told him about an emergency firecall, disturbing the first peaceful sleep he'd had since his disagreement with Sirius. As he pushed the door open, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes with irritation, wondering who would be bothering them at; he glanced at his golden watch, _2 in the afternoon?_ The stricken face of his friend Peter came into view, turning to face him.

"_Prongs!_"

He frowned, "Wormtail, what's wrong?"

"I--it's Sirius! He--he--"

James felt his blood run cold at the mention of his best friend spoken with the panicked tone.

"What happened? Is he hurt?"

"No, no!" Peter amended quickly, and despite the immense relief that flooded James to know that his best friend was unharmed, the next words sent him staggering and breathless. "Prongs, he's _leaving for France!"_

"I--_what?_"

"He's - _leaving_ - for - _FRANCE!_" Peter yelled in panic, enunciating every word perfectly. And after a moment's thought, added, "Tonight!"

James closed and opened his mouth wordlessly, the words rolling over in his mind tauntingly. Shaking his head, he promptly shoved Peter out of the way of his fireplace. Grabbing some floo powder, he threw it into the fire.

"_12 Grimmauld Place!_"

When he stumbled out, the first thing he noticed was that the room looked scarce. Several books that had littered around the once somewhat homey, despite the dark atmosphere, living area, was gone. For all it looked, it was clear Sirius had been planning for a long time. The silent month he'd endured without the other man came to mind. Paling, he turned as the door opened, Sirius giving specific instructions to his trailing house elf.

"--I want the place squeaky clean at all, and I mean, _at all_ times and--"

"Sirius?" he called softly.

There was a pause as both turned to look at him.

"James," he greeted finally, "what are you doing here?"

Said person took a step forward, a deep frown marring his features at the polite tone used.

"Am I not allowed to visit a friend anymore?"

His lips were pursed so tightly together that James was almost afraid it would disappear into his mouth. After a few minutes in which he deduced he would receive no answer, he looked away, hurt. Swallowing thickly, he waved pointedly at the draped paintings and furniture around the room.

"Peter said you were leaving," he mumbled, brown eyes swerving to lock gazes with pale blue in askance.

There was a long silence, and then, "...yes, I am."

James nodded stiffly, rubbing his cheek to numb the stinging in his eyes.

"I see." he said, "Are you ever coming back?"

"I don't think so, Prongs." Sirius said softly.

James growled suddenly angry, "Are we really going to let this destroy us? I thought we were friends."

"I thought so too."

He flinched at the past tense in Sirius' statement. "I know I've been a right prat lately but.. we're still friends aren't we?"

The darker haired man sneered, "A right prat? James, you willingly gave away your son! This isn't just some stupid issue to get over, that was my godson you threw away!"

"I didn't throw him away!" he objected fiercely, "Harry staying here would be like putting a cat in a lion's den. He doesn't belong here!"

"He has _every right_ to be here! You just don't want to face the truth!"

"It doesn't matter!" he said, "I'm not changing just because you don't agree."

"This isn't just a difference in opinion, James, this is my godson---_your son_ we're talking about!" Sirius yelled, "And Harry's not destroying us, you are."

James had nothing to say to the last part, only sagging in sadness. He nodded awkwardly, not knowing what to say. The silence dragged on for a couple of more minutes, before it was tensely broken.

"Shall Kreacher escort nasty Master's blood traitor guest to the door?"

They both turned to the house elf, his wrinkled face stretched into a nasty smile. James opened his mouth to retort smartly, but was interrupted before anything could come out.

"I think it would be best," Sirius replied quietly.

James looked at his best friend, brown eyes stinging with hurt.

* * *

**Author's Note :** Well, that didn't come out quite how I wanted it.. but I did what I could, despite my aching body. I've got the third chapter done, just lying around waiting to be revised and posted, and half of the fourth chapter hanging around. I should go and finish it now, but, as life would have it, my idiot of a brother slipped something spicy into my dinner. And after chugging everything in the fridge, it finally came down to me drinking some milk. Yup. Have I mentioned I'm lactose? Irrelevant, but the way I'm moaning and lazing about in bed should probably be why until now all I could do is post. -sigh-

I appreciate the reviews, however few they may be, and it really is honestly discouraging to see the 40-somethings adding _Bloody Sunday_ into their favorites without a review. I'm just saying, not complaining, or anything, you know. Mhmm. And as I've yet to figure out how to reply to reviews, I guess I'm going to have to say that **no, neither twin are squibs**. And I can't say anything further lest I reveal the story to you all. Sorry!

Feedback, pretty pretty please? Click away.


	3. Chapter 3

_DISCLAIMER :_ I wish I owned Harry Potter. And others. _Read:_ I wish.

_WARNING_ : character death.

**_Bloody Sunday_**  
Chapter Three

* * *

Petunia carefully stirred, watching with critical eyes the way her soup was just a tad too thick. Pulling a spoon from a cupboard, she dipped it in and brought it to her lips. A pink tongue slowly darted out to taste it. She nodded approvingly to herself, setting the spoon aside to continue stirring. On the counter next to her, soft rythmic breathing reached her straining ears from the baby monitor, indicating the children's peaceful slumber. With a sigh, she covered the pot, and began chopping the vegetables she had set aside to begin on the main dish. Outside her window, she gazed with weariness at the darkening sky, and went back to her cooking. Vernon, workaholic that he was, had decided to spend an extra hour at work to earn just enough for the newest addition to their little family. To her surprise, it hadn't taken much to persuade the man to take Harry in. What a generous man, her husband, she thought lovingly.

The boy, sweet child that he was, had gotten along splendidly with her Dudley, and with a fond smile, related to Vernon on how their son would not grow up so lonely after all. He was quiet, with bright green eyes, and about as normal as any other new born child, as far as children went being born from _those_ kind of people. Petunia shuddered for Harry, wrinkling her nose in disgust. The sudden thought of Lily and her kind sent her reeling into a fit of such boiling rage that she almost choked on the pure nausea it created within her. Taking a deep breath, she released her grip on the kitchen knife, lest she stabbed herself in a fit of hysterical anger, and calmed her furious nerves.

She jerked at a sudden hiccough from the baby monitor, turning quickly to turn off the stove, before leaving to check on the babies.

Entering the nursery, she looked curiously at the frowning Harry, who brightened at the sight of her. She returned the smile, noticing the way a sleeping Dudley nudged Harry's side with a wet thumb. Scooping Harry up, she carried him down the stairs to the kitchen, leaving Dudley behind to rest. She placed him on a baby cradle, cooing.

"Are you hungry, dear one?" she said, "Auntie's making supper."

The baby gurgled, delighted to be spoken to. With a soft chuckle, she turned to resume her chopping. Harry babbled on incoherently, filling the once silent kitchen with his gleeful chatter. He would put in the occasional grunt, or shout, in response to her baby-talk. After five minutes, Petunia's straining ears could only make out the high pitched laughter. Assuming Harry was falling asleep, she let it slide. Another few minutes, and the growing uneasiness at the now silent boy hadn't yet subsided. Gripping the kitchen knife tightly, she paused, turning to see Harry's blank face. Tensing, she walked slowly over, waiting for the child to notice her presence. The seconds ticked, and nothing. Instead, he continued looking at something past her, over her shoulder. She flinched violently at the sudden screech from the child, hands flailing dangerous.

She breathed heavily, waiting for the magic to come and attack her.

She had never truly believed the boy to be born without the curse, and though she had taken him in, she was still fearful, and weary of his power. She had thought maybe she could beat it out of him. He had been normal, until now, and this strange behaviour wasn't helping her calm down. Harry still refused to acknowledge her. Shoulders stiff, just as Petunia made to turn and go back to the vegetables, a loud blast echoed through the back door.

"_Get away from my godson!"_

Petunia screamed.

* * *

When everything was packed and ready, the sun had already begun to set, making the house seem even darker then it originally was. Many of the paintings were veiled, as were most of the furniture, and though the rooms were cleaner then they had been in years, they were empty. Most of the house had been repainted, re-warded and polished. At the foot of the stairs there were three large trunks, and behind Kreacher, there was another one trailing him as he descended the stairs.

"Filthy blood traitors infecting Mistress' home... " he mumbled to himself.

Rolling his eyes, Sirius chucked his half-eaten apple at the creature's head. "Oh, shut it, would you? I'm leaving already, so go fuck off in a corner where I can't see you."

His ears flattened against his head as he bowed in submission, placing the floating trunk with the others. With a pop, he disappeared.

Sirius sighed and waved his wand, "_Reducio._"

His luggage shrunk to the size of a card's deck and he put it in the pockets of his robes with an unconscious pat. Taking a last glance around the place he had grown up in, he wondered what else he needed to do before he left. He cringed slightly at the memory of James' betrayed face, gazing at him with accusing eyes. He couldn't help but scoff, though the guilt he felt still overrid his annoyance: he was not the one at fault. Shortly after James had left, Remus had come to try and convince him not to leave, and had left himself, unsucessful. Peter, loudmouthed idiot that he was, had somehow gotten wind of the news from the werewolf, and had proceeded to spread the news like wildfire. With a nasty grin, Sirius decided the man was in need of a little pranking.

But the smile soon died on his lips upon realizing he wouldn't be able to do so all the way from France.

_Well, unless.._

His mind wandered aimlessly as he went to the fireplace, making sure the floo connections had been properly cut off. He had been much surprised to see James slightly smudged with soot in his living area earlier that day. Seeing that it was disconnected, he moved to the large portrait in the wall opposite the staircase he had been standing in mere moments prior. The painting was heavily warded, almost seeming to seethe with a dark purple glow. The veil, a worn drabby color that Sirius suspected once had been velvety, was shut tightly. Despite this, he could easily hear the soft snores beneath. He wondered briefly whether or not to announce his leave.

Deciding better then to get into a screaming match with his deceased mother, he made for the front door. He yanked it open roughly, looking back a last time, and closed the door behind him when the lights automatically closed. Nodding, he placed his key inside the hole, and locked the house. He walked a couple of steps away from the front, and as he turned, he saw the building flit briefly, before reshaping and disappearing completely.

Satisfied, Sirius tucked the key into his pocket, and turned.

He had one more stop before he left for France.

* * *

Sirius appeared in a secluded corner of the park near the house, and looking around, he couldn't help but grimace. Everything, for as far as his eyes could see, was exactly the same. The houses, the structure, and from what he could see, even the doorknobs were made of the same material, in the same size and color. As he began his trek, he noted that the only distinguishing features any of the houses had were the metal monstrosity for transport that muggles called _cars_ in front, as well the bolded letters above the top right corner of the front door. He scanned the neighborhood quickly, and, finding his location, trekked through the grass to blatantly look through the window. It was dark enough outside that no one would see him unless they really looked, but in a neighborhood like this, he doubted anyone would notice him in his black robes.

Everything, from what he could see into the room, was so squeaky clean, he assumed even a house elf would be jealous. But then, as he remembered Petunia's smoldering attitude at the muggle wedding a couple of years ago, he realized it was really no surprise. Finding no one in there, he moved from window to window, hoping to see a familiar tuft of dark hair. Finally moving to the back, he peeked in and with a small click of his tongue in triumph, he watched his godson. The boy looked to be babbling happily away with the occasional bubbling laughter as Petunia turned to grace him with a fond smile. She moved over to blow him a kiss before returning to her task. Behind her, Harry crooned.

With a sinking heart, he realized James was right.

Harry _would_ be happy here, given the chance. And with a sigh, he glanced at the time on his silver pocket watch. He had another hour before he had to leave. Deciding to spend the time getting acquainted with his godson, he settled back. Petunia had her back to the child, and he couldn't exactly see what she was doing. Shrugging, he watched the bright green eyes stare at the ceiling in wonder, before swiveling to look him dead in the eye. He gasped, and blinking, he waved hesitantly. Harry clapped delightedly.

Chuckling slightly, he continued making faces to the boy, who watched him in interest. It was only when Petunia tensed and turned did he feel his heart stop.

A knife gripped tightly in hand, she walked over to Harry, lips pursed tightly. She watched him for a moment, an intense look of blankness on her face, and Sirius himself gripped his wand tightly. Suddenly, her arms flailed. Sirius's heart clenched, and he knew he had been right about the Potter's choice in leaving him here.

Sirius had never wished to be wrong so much in his life before.

The knife descended painfully close to his godson, and not wasting anymore time, he charged for the door in a panic. He blasted it open without another thought, and ran through, his blue eyes narrowing at the sight of the knife in Petunia's hand.

"_Get away from my godson!_"

Petunia screamed, aiming the knife at him, and moving to stand between him and cradle. She was pale, looking terrified, and with a sneer, Sirius hoped she really was.

"Step away, Petunia," he hissed.

"W-who are you?!" she shrieked, waving the knife around, "Get out of my house!"

"Get away from Harry!" he repeated.

She froze, and tensed again, teeth grinding. "_YOU!_" she yelled in recognition, but unfortunately, the fear was replaced by a deep seething hatred. "Get out! Get out of my house, or so help me I'll---I'll--"

Seeing the knife waving around dangerously, he panicked and jabbed his wand in her direction, watching anxiously as she slid away from Harry. She crashed into the counter near the stove, many things tipping over and the knife flying from her hand. Sirius made to step towards his godson, but in a sudden whirlwind of blond and pink, the air was knocked from him when he was tackled around the middle. He berated himself for thinking for a moment he was safe in the presence of a muggle as he went crashing through the glass window of a wooden door, tumbling loudly into the living area he had investigated moments prior. He fell heavily on the carpeted floor and groaned, feeling the stab of wood and glass on his back. He stood drowsily, Petunia's frail form panting from the broken doorway. He aimed his wand.

Her eyes widened as she was shoved backwards with an invisible force. She screamed in pain as she went into the stove, the pot she had been heating spilling all over her left arm. She turned desperately, seeing the dark man weaving through the mess to step closer to Harry once more. Petunia didn't know what he wanted but whatever it had to do with the boy, she wasn't letting him get it. Pushing herself up with much effort, she chucked the half-empty pot at him, relishing in the howl he gave as it hit his shoulder with a loud thud. He fell to his knees, and rushing, she ran to grab the cradle. Right before reaching Harry, the back of her shirt was grabbed, and with a gasp, she was pulled back roughly and her back hit the floor with a solid smack.

She moaned in pain, rolling slightly, but determined to save the baby. Sirius, who lay panting above Harry, grunted as Petunia launched herself onto his back, bony hands pulling wickedly at the long strands, and sharp nails leaving bloody marks on his neck. He spun quickly, warms waving frantically trying to get her off. Things exploded around them, the result of Sirius' panicked wand waving. Losing his footing, Sirius fell heavily on the floor as he slipped on the spilled soup, taking Petunia down with him. They paused briefly, disoriented.

"Crazy bitch," Sirius spat, panting heavily on the floor.

"Look who's talking," she sneered.

Faintly, they recognized the familiar scent of a fire, and turning, they paled at the sight behind them. The rag that had been hazardously thrown onto the stove had burned, and a bottle of vegetable oil had been tipped when Petunia had crashed into the counter. They watched in horror as the flaming rag flicked once, twice, and then caught the oil. The once tiny fire roared down the counter, its flames reaching up to the ceiling, and down the counter.

As one, both Sirius and Petunia backed away with an arm covering their heads. Momentarily distracted, Petunia took the chance to escape. She pushed herself up in a dead run towards the wailing Harry, who was dangerously near the fire. She'd rather die then let the boy she had promised to care for be harmed. Sirius gaped, before snapping to attention.

Lifting his wand, he screamed, "_Stupefy!"_

He watched emotionlessly as she dropped to the ground, and standing, he winced. The fire had spread quickly throughout the kitchen, and had traveled onto the floor where the oil had spilled. He gasped as the fire licked at his black robes, and looking up, he felt the blood drain from his face at the sight of Harry crying on the burning table.

Thinking quickly, he gripped his wand and pointed it directly at Harry.

"_Aguamenti!_"

A long spurt of water ran from his wand, effectively dousing the still distressed baby. Hastily dousing himself as well, he ran to grab for his godson. He coughed as the smoke filled his lungs, and without a second thought, he apparated them both out of the house.

Panting heavily, he checked the shivering infant for injuries, only seeing slight burning from the boy. He waved his wand and conjured a thick blanket, relieving him of his wet clothing, and wrapped the cot around the whimpering baby. He swayed them gently, trying to calm the frightened child.

"It's alright, Harry," he said softly, "Paddy's here."

A sudden wailing caught his attention and turning, he watched in triumph, and no little guilt, as people began to filter onto the street to watch the house he had been in just a moment before, burning into a crisp. In front, there were red and yellow trucks with people heavily clothed moving about. Water began spurting from what seemed to be a long round tube to douse the fire, but from what Sirius could tell, it was in vain.

Suddenly, a car screeched to a halt, and a beefy man with no neck ambled out, face pale.

"Dursley," he acknowledged with a hiss. Harry whimpered in his arms, and he cooed softly, hoping to calm him.

He looked up as there was an explosion, followed by shouting. It looked like part of the house had fallen apart. He watched with a wince as Vernon shoved the muggles off of him, and ran for the burning house in despair. The sudden realization that he had left Petunia inside washed over him with the force of a tsunami.

"No, gerroff! I--I have to.. --" Dursley was screaming hysterically, "Petunia! _Dudley!_ My family's in --"

"Mr. Dursley! You can't!"

Hands attempted to grab him, but in a surprising display of strenght, he shoved himself past the crowd and ran for the door. Just as he disappeared into the house, the wailing sound of another baby in the fire reached his ears, silenced by the roof of the building collapsing. There was a moment as the fire roared an ugly orange-red, and then it was silent. No wailing, no screaming, no nasty muggles trying to harm his godson, just the quiet knowledge that he had killed an entire family unintentionally, echoing in his mind.

_They were going to hurt Harry_, he reasoned, _Petunia was going to kill him with a kitchen knife. _

Shakily, he turned and apparated away.

* * *

Sirius paced agitatedly in a dark alleyway across the street from a certain phone booth.

His portkey, his magical way of transport to France, was due to leave in less then ten minutes. Still, Sirius was undecided on his course of action. In his arms, Harry was sleeping peacefully, undisturbed with the troubled wizard's movements. He had dried himself as well as his robes, and though his body ached, he had wrapped a thin scarf around his neck to hide the wounds inflicted by Petunia. Hair slightly matted, he had hastily combed through with a rough hand. All in all, he supposed he looked presentable enough not to arouse suspicion, despite wearing a scarf in the mid-september heat. Then again, he could always say he had a cold. He coughed experimentally.

_Hmm._

Suddenly, Sirius groaned, rubbing his forehead with a free hand. If he didn't leave now, he'd have to order another portkey, which could take months at time, and was painfully expensive. He had the money to pay for it, yes, but he wanted to leave, and it had to be _now._ He may never get the chance again, not with Scrimgeour practically begging him to take back the resignation note he'd sent. He was a damn good Auror, after all. And if it were up to him, he would have left earlier then planned, but as life would have it, Sirius didn't know how to create portkeys, let alone ones made to travel in long lenght. He sighed.

The problem was not leaving.

The problem was leaving _with Harry_.

He could already be considered a kidnapper, as well as a murderer--he winced internally--for what he had done tonight. With a sigh, he held Harry closer to him, and breathed in his soft scent.

"Oh, Harry, what am I going to do?" he said tiredly.

The child snored in response.

With another sigh, he decided there was no use; he was going to have to take Harry with him.

_Besides_, he reasoned, bitterly,_ it's not like anyone wants him here, anyways_.

Glancing at his pocket watch, he noticed how little time left he had. Nodding to himself reassuringly, he crossed the street.

* * *

The next day, word of the Dursleys' unexpected death sent the Potters reeling into each other, and remorseful, went to collect their now deseased son for a funeral.

Only, there was no body.

* * *

**Author's Note : **yeah, I bet you weren't expecting _that,_ huh? I wasn't either, but it was convenient at the time. Oh well. I _do_ feel bad about killing them off though. I'm kind of disappointed most of you have figured out the plot, not that I'm going to tell you which one of you were right.. hah, right. Anyways, I have school in half an hour and I'm at home in pjs, posting this. I should probably get going.

I suppose the wards aren't effective because Lily never died to protect Harry.. hmm. Also, I think I might be in search for a beta. If anyone would like to offer their services instead of my pointless searching, that'd be great! If not, you could always refer me.. mm, yeah. So that'd be that. I have twenty five minutes before the bell rings. Best get going.

Oh, and thank you to _Isebas_ for pointing out the speech bubble, I would have never seen it otherwise, as I've never noticed the triangle next to it either. Yeah, I'm as blind as a bat. **_Thank you all for the support and the reviews!_**

I must now run to school. Ciao!


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